Page 18 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

create some flyers for our band event coming up, but I found out they

weren’t blank,” he says, hesitant to turn it over in front of me.

“Okay,” I groan. “So, what about it?”

“Don’t be upset, okay?”

“Just show me the damn—” I grunt, ripping the sheet out of his hand.

He takes two steps back, and everyone watches me as my eyes scan

over the horrific display of cursive font and delicate embroidery.

Invitations too crooked to save, they’d ended up in the dumpster.

My eyes fixate on the familiar statue in the middle of the card—her

hand pressed to his chest, her lips on his lips, while her hand is

outstretched, adorning his ring.

I stagger to keep standing, clutching the side of the bar just to keep

myself upright. “Holy fucking shit.”

Julius nods while taking one more cautionary step back. “Yeah, I

know.”

“What is it?” Storm asks, coming around my shoulder so he can see

the horrid nightmare of my reality now. I clutch the sheet in my fist,

watching him jump back in fear. “Okay, okay. That was an invasion

of space, brother. My bad. We’re going to go, okay? Just… call us if

you need us.”

Reggie doesn’t seem to understand, asking why they have to leave the

bar so fast, but I’m sure Julius is already filling them in while they

escape to the sidewalk. I meander back behind the bar, into the back

room, walking by hordes of liquor bottles that beckon for my

attention.

Sinking into the tired leather couch that has come to be my bed in

this stuffed back office, I kick my feet up and undo the wrinkled

crumbles of the paper in my fist. I double-check, just to make sure

it’s true.

“Please save the date for this ceremonious event that will proceed

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